


death dogs his steps

by alxndrlightwoods



Series: death dogs [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood-centric, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Cats, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hellhounds, Injury, Light Angst, M/M, Near Death Experiences, POV Alec Lightwood, Soul Guardians, Soulmates, Soulmates Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Vomiting, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:27:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22121047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alxndrlightwoods/pseuds/alxndrlightwoods
Summary: This is what Alec knows —He's never, ever, been alone.
Relationships: Clary Fray/Simon Lewis, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: death dogs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622629
Comments: 57
Kudos: 857
Collections: DL;DR: Shadowhunters Fic, Hunter's Moon Fic Recs, SHBingo





	death dogs his steps

**Author's Note:**

> for my "Long Distance" square for shadowhunter bingo. How to creatively interpret prompts, a guide by Saeth. Thank you [alexanderlightweight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexanderlightweight/) for the beta.

* * *

When Alec is sixteen, he nearly dies. It’s a stupid mistake, his own fault — he’d left the Institute for a solo patrol because he hadn’t wanted to deal with _anyone else_ for the rest of the day. Which meant snapping at Jace that he could consider himself _off duty_ and going out on his own.

He hadn’t been expecting a nest of _rahab_ demons in an alleyway in Queens.

He takes out the first — of _five,_ Raziel, how did they miss this? There’d been no reports of demonic activity around here — in the short window of surprise he has before he’s forced to parry a strike from the nearest demon with his bow.

Alec gives an annoyed grunt as the momentum pushes him back. He stumbles, barely managing to block the claws that swipe at him.

He trades his bow for a seraph blade, pale angelic blue lighting up the alleyway in eerie shadows. The lizard–like demons are stalking him, scenting the air eagerly in anticipation of a meal. Alec grimaces as the nearest demon drools into its own mouth, tongue darting from its lower mouth to lick the liquid off as it drips down its face. _Disgusting._ With his other hand, he digs his stele out of his jacket, taking careful steps back as he keeps the four demons in sight.

He fends off the first one, taking a few of the clawed fingers off, eliciting a shriek of pain. It lunges forward and body slams him into the wall and his stele goes flying off... somewhere.

He skewers the demon with his blade and shoves the body away as it dissolves into ash and ichor.

Two of the remaining demons try to pincher him, one of them circling around to come at him from behind. He twists, following their movements; keeping them in sight, and stepping warily.

Which is when the sixth demon — the one he didn’t notice — lunges from the shadows, slipping past his guard. It sinks its barbed tongues into his flank before he can react.

Alec’s training takes over even as his side goes numb. Two quick swings of his blade separates its head from its shoulders and the tongues from the head, preventing the tongues from ripping free of his body when the head rolls.

He stumbles back as he tries to keep the remaining three demons — shrieking, now that he’s bleeding, hungry and _eager —_ off of him and remove the stingers without causing himself more damage. He can feel the venom still being pumped into him.

Alec manages to get one out before the closest demon bodychecks him into a nearby dumpster, knocking his seraph blade from his hand. He lunges for it desperately but another of the demons is on him, bearing him to the ground before he can reach it.

He fights as it pins him. He ends up on his back, crying out when one of the demon’s clawed hands tears the remaining tongue from his side. Blood spatters the grimy concrete as he twists out of the way of its snapping jaws.

There’s a liquid snarl from nearby, and suddenly the pressure on him is just _gone._ Alec gathers his wits enough to make sense of what he’s seeing — the demons are dying to an invisible opponent. One’s throat disappears in a ruin of black before the body starts to slowly dissolve, the second loses an arm before its chest caves in, teeth Alec can’t see ripping past muscle and bone to tear into the soft places inside.

The third shrieks in anger and swings a taloned hand at Alec’s guardian and loses it; the appendage, claws and all, disappearing down his girl’s gullet.

Then the world dissolves into fire, consuming the demon in a flash of hellish flames.

Alec tries to sit up.

It’s a mistake. He ends up flat on his back, dizzy and sick, pain lancing through him from the wound on his side. He tastes blood and bile in his throat as he swallows convulsively. He gags and tries not to throw up.

There’s a distressed whine next to his ear.

“Hey girl,” Alec croaks out, wishing he could reach out to her, let her press her skull into his hand. “You did a good job.”

He’d be dead, without her.

She presses her wet nose against his cheek, whining again. Alec can’t move enough to reassure her. There’s a shock-filled numbness shooting through his body in waves.

In time with his heartbeat.

_The venom._

Alec laughs, then coughs, because his body did not like that _at all._ He fights gagging. He’s not sure he would survive throwing up, and he can’t move. Drowning in his own vomit isn’t preferable to the venom working its way through his veins.

“You tried,” he assures her woozily, because angel’s blessings, somehow his guardian had managed to take down three demons on her own. He hadn’t even known guardians could _do_ something like that.

There’s another frantic whine as she paws at his side, and oh, that’s bad. He can’t even feel the pain lance through him from that, even though she’s over his wound.

Her nose is shockingly cold when she presses it to the claw marks on his side, breath pleasantly warm instead of hot as she pants on him.

He sobs when she laps at the wound. He can’t even scream, his vocal cords all locked up. Instead, only an animal noise of pain comes out, high pitched and breathless.

He doesn’t know how he manages to find the strength to try and push her away, but he does, somehow. She doesn’t even budge, growling in warning as she continues to lick at the wound, _scorching heat_ against the cold spreading out from it.

Her teeth sting his hand as she snaps at him, drawing blood, and Alec jerks away in reflex.

The pain that shoots through him is _too much_ and he rolls onto his uninjured side as he loses his battle against throwing up. Blood and acid and something thick and black drips down his chin as he spits and gags. His entire body is shaking, tingles spreading through his limbs. His fingers are numb.

He spits again and more black liquid comes out, burning his throat as he heaves it up.

Angel is pressed against his front now, licking at the mess on his chin and lips. Alec tries to push her away again, because she’s making it hard to breathe, but she’s solid and immoveable.

He throws up again, sides heaving, but his head is clearing.

He braces himself on an elbow, shaking, and loops his other arm over her back. It’s easier to keep himself steady like this, as he purges the venom from his body.

“Good girl,” he slurs, as she cleans the venom off his chin again as his body tries to decide if he’s done or not.

He pets her weakly and feels her wagging her tail, a pleased huffing noise gusting out against his chin.

His side still hurts, sticky with blood when he peels his shirt up to take a look, using Angel to make sure he doesn’t tip over. There are pale grey veins spiderwebbing out from the wound, a welcome change from the black of the venom he just purged.

“Good girl,” he repeats. He uses his hand on her back to lever himself up into a sitting position.

He doesn’t know where his stele went. There’s no way he can make it through the streets of New York with this wound in his side and the way his head is pounding; but if he can’t find his stele, he doesn’t have any other options — except waiting for Jace and backup to find him, and he’s not sure how long that will take.

He doesn’t want to be in this filthy alley anymore.

Angel noses under his chin, another concerned whine convincing Alec to use what little strength he has to pet her. His fingers sink into her thick fur as he scratches her shoulders.

“I gotta get up, girl,” Alec tells her, ignoring the way his head pounds and swims. “I don’t know where my stele went and if I don’t find it, I’m stuck here.”

He gets a protesting growl for his words. Then she’s gone.

Alec blinks in confusion, brain having trouble recognising the fact that there’s no more coarse fur under his fingers, and his hand drops without him making the decision.

Well, now he’s _really_ not getting up. If he tries without her to brace on, he’s going to end up flat on his face.

Then she’s back, spitting his stele into his lap.

Alec stares down it in confusion.

He’s pretty sure she shouldn’t have been able to do that.

The smell of burnt fur pervades his senses, his mind catching up with the signals his body is sending him.

If Alec had any doubts about the fact that she _wasn’t_ a normal dog left at this point, this would put those to rest.

“Good girl,” he repeats again, helpless to think of anything else to say. Her tail beats heavy against his leg from where she’s sitting pressed against him.

He activates his _iratze_ and then draws the crescent moon curves of _amisso_ on his stomach. After a moment of consideration, he draws a _mendelin_ in the hollow of his throat. The rawness fades almost immediately and he sighs in relief, slumping against Angel, trusting her to keep him up.

Her fur is soft and warm against his face, smelling faintly of ash and more strongly of burnt fur from where she’d held his stele in her mouth.

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve her. To deserve _either_ of them, because this is how his soulmate will treat him, when they meet.

He can’t wait.

Alec pets her absentmindedly, avoiding her sore muzzle. He doesn’t want to try and move before his runes have had a chance to work. He’s worried the most about the fluids he’s lost at this point — blood, yes, but he also purged the contents of his stomach and the combination has left him more lightheaded than he’d like.

His phone hadn’t survived the fight. Alec knows that the fact that he hasn’t picked up has probably concerned Jace more than the pain that shot down the bond. But he’s on the opposite end of the city from the Institute, and even with runes activated it’ll take Jace and whatever backup he’s brought _time_ to get to him.

He doesn’t want to wait. Not _here,_ at least, where it smells vile and just _being here_ makes his pulse pound in his throat. He wants to be somewhere _safe._

He grits his teeth and levers himself up — slowly, carefully — with a hand on Angel’s back. She’s solid despite her size, whuffing a hot breath of air against his thigh when he’s up and bracing himself against the wall.

He’s never had any complaints about Angel and he _still_ doesn’t but he kind of wishes she was taller so he could lean on her while he walked.

Angel brings him his weapons, the smell of burnt fur growing stronger as she does, but Alec can’t find it in himself to argue with her. She doesn’t seem to mind, and when she licks his hand, she’s not bleeding, so her injuries are more or less minor. He slots his weapons back into their holsters. He doesn’t bother to go after any of his arrows. The cleanup crew can handle that.

He limps his way out of the alley, Angel a warm presence on his injured side, guarding his wound. He brushes his fingers gently through her fur in thanks.

Jace and Izzy meet him partway back to the Institute, just when his strength is starting to flag and Angel’s encouraging whuffs have turned into concerned whines.

“Alec!” Jace shouts, snapping Alec’s head up. He takes in the forms of his siblings with relief.

He leans into Jace gratefully when his parabatai fits himself under Alec’s shoulder and submits to Izzy’s checking over his healing wound without protest.

Alec jerks away from her when she presses gentle fingers to the edges of the injury, hissing as the dulled pain spikes into sharp agony. He almost buckles, but Jace is there to catch him.

He watches them exchange an alarmed look as his head swims.

“Ow,” he says, sort of annoyed that _this_ is the final straw and the cause of him passing out. _No fair,_ he thinks. It’s the last thought he has before his vision goes dark.

* * *

He wakes in the infirmary to dim lights, the beep of a heart monitor steady in his ears. There’s a gentle whir of a fan. Probably to keep him cool through the fever he apparently had, judging by the cooling sweat coating him.

Angel is a heavy weight against the back of his knees, her head resting on his hip. He hears her tail beating against the blankets at the fact that he’s awake.

“You’re such a good girl,” he tells her, smiling down at where he knows she must be, scratching her ears. She gives a pleased _whuff._

He falls asleep, content and safe with her between him and the door.

* * *

Angel follows him faithfully on every patrol, after that.

He’s still not sure how she knew he needed her. Despite what he’s sure anyone _else_ would say, he doesn’t actually care.

At first, he’s afraid of accidentally hitting her, worried about what his _adamas_ tipped arrows could do to her if he does. He can’t see her, after all. But she learns quickly to stay low, and Alec makes it a point to trust her in his blind spots, knowing she watches them. His kill count racks up, by simple virtue of the fact that he has a second — and lethally efficient — weapon at his disposal at all times. His count rivals Jace’s at this point, and Jace is torn between being thrilled and pouting.

She saves his life more times than he can count. If he was bothering to count in the first place.

She really only leaves him when he’s doing busywork around the Institute, because he hasn’t ever slept without her.

He wonders how much of that is her desire — not willingness — to leave, and how much is Alec’s desire that no one find out about her.

He knows what it means, that he has his guardian, has _always_ had his guardian. His soulmate is older than him. How much older, Alec doesn’t know. He doesn’t care about _that_ either, because Alec would be dead without them.

And considering Angel… he doesn’t think they’re a nephilim.

Your soul manifests in the world when you’re eighteen. The number of life. The form they take is a facet of your soul — a representation of the part of you your soulmate will need most, in the time between the manifestation and your meeting.

An invisible companion, to walk through the world at your soulmate’s side, reminding them that you’re out there waiting for them. That one day, you’ll find each other. A guardian, to remind them that they’re not alone.

Alec’s always wondered what his looks like. A predator of some sort, he’s sure — he’s a _shadowhunter_ after all. But he doesn’t know what part of him his soulmate needs most. Won’t know until he meets them and sees his soul for the first time.

 _His_ guardian, on the other hand, is a quintessential one _._ Strong, vicious, guarding Alec’s back better than anyone in his life but Jace. But she also curls up next to him at night, lets him cry into her fur when he can’t handle the world. Her breathing has lulled him to sleep for his whole life.

His guardian angel.

* * *

He keeps her a secret because knows his parents will care about all the things he never has. They’re not soulmates themselves — he never found out why they married. Never wanted the answer enough to ask. He’d rather _not_ know, because he doesn’t think he’ll like the reason.

His life doesn’t change much, as the years pass. Eighteen is an exciting year simply because of the relief at the fact that his soulmate isn’t alone anymore.

At least not until Clary Fray comes into their lives.

She comes with baggage — her mundie soulmate and an inability to listen to reason, and she drives Alec up the wall. That’s _without_ getting into her inexplicable connection with Jace.

He’s pretty sure their shared souls is the only reason Simon isn’t worried about Jace.

He actually likes Simon marginally better than he does Clary — he, at least, understands that this is their job and they know what they’re talking about — but both of them are _mundanes_ in all the ways that matter.

It doesn’t help that Angel disappeared the night Clary came into their lives.

Alec refuses to entertain the notion that his soulmate has died. He’d feel different, if they had — they say you do, when you lose your soulmate, that your soul _shrieks_ as it accepts the part of yourself that had been with them back — but that doesn’t stop the part of him that thinks that maybe… no.

He doesn’t think about it.

So he doesn’t sleep, because he’s never slept alone before, even though he _needs_ sleep, and he doesn’t think about why she might be gone.

That part, at least, is easy. He has bigger things to worry about, like Clary’s missing memories, the possible key to finding the Mortal Cup.

Even if that means he’s running on fumes and more short-tempered over it.

He’s so happy to have a _solution_ to his problem that he doesn’t even fight the plan of meeting in a _rave._

* * *

Meeting Magnus Bane is _electric._

Literally — the room brims with static electricity, raising the hairs on his arms.

The feeling in his chest is electric, too.

He follows Magnus back out to the others to find scared warlocks and nephilim corpses. Simon is distracting a crying girl in the corner, his pigeon fluttering around her head. She’s giggling. Magnus drifts off to talk to Clary and Alec can’t help the sense of loss when he goes.

At loose ends, he surveys the apartment, taking in the damaged furniture. There’s a green–eyed black cat perched on one of the chairs, tail lashing angrily. Alec turns away with a smile ticking up the corner of his mouth to join his siblings in stripping the dead Circle members of weapons, glad Magnus’s pet wasn’t hurt in the melee. He wouldn’t trust the Circle members not to hurt the cat just because its owner was a downworlder.

He keeps an eye on Magnus as the man arranges portals for his people while he talks with Clary. The girl’s boxer guardian is sticking close to her side. Spooked, he thinks, by the events of the night. He’s pretty sure they have incurred enough goodwill with the warlock to have him perform the ritual to retrieve Clary’s memories, which makes him grateful. He wants to get the Cup so he can pass it over to the Clave, and with it the issue of Clary’s mother. With the Cup safely in their hands they can concentrate on rescuing Jocelyn Morgenstern, a valuable asset against Valentine.

The ritual goes off without a hitch. What’s more, it turns out that Luke, Clary’s surrogate father, is very much on her side. Which is good, considering he has the Cup.

It’s not long before Alec finds himself at the Institute, handing control of the situation over to his mother.

(He’ll never tell anyone that he sent a fire message to her with a plea to come save him from Clary Fray. He’d hit his limit, between her issues and his lack of sleep. It was all his mom’s problem, now. Thank Raziel.)

He ends up sneaking out of the Institute — via the roof — because he just wants a _break._

Magnus had pulled Alec aside to write his number on Alec’s hand — in brilliant gold sharpie — and asked him to come back. Whenever, really, Magnus would make the time.

Alec had no qualms about taking him up on it. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well not sleep somewhere he actually wanted to be.

* * *

“Cute cat,” Alec comments, distracted, as he wanders over to Magnus’s bar. He needs a drink after today, almost as badly as he needed to _escape._

“I don’t have a cat,” Magnus denies. He’s hovering near one of the couches, tracking Alec’s progress through the room, like he can’t quite believe Alec is here.

Alec is having trouble believing it too. But there’s nowhere he’d rather be, somehow.

“Do you just let strays in, then? That must be hell on your wards.” Alec pours himself two fingers of what smell identifies as whiskey and knocks it back.

He glances over his shoulder to find Magnus frowning at him, confusion writ on his face.

“The cat, Magnus? The one on your couch. It’s black. Green eyes? If it isn’t yours, it’s a stray, right? Do you just let them in?” Alec points at the black cat sitting on the back of the couch, tail curled regally around its paws.

Magnus follows where he’s pointing and then looks back at him, a strange light in his eyes.

“Alec,” Magnus repeats, slowly, like there’s something Alec is missing. _“I don’t see a cat.”_

Alec blinks, thrown, before everything clicks.

The cat gives a demanding meow.

Alec moves on autopilot over to the couch and scoops it up.

The cat shoves its head under his chin, purring. Magnus is watching them. He wonders if Magnus’s heart is pounding as hard as his is.

Because Magnus can see Alec’s soul, his guardian, now that Alec has touched it.

Alec holds out the cat.

Magnus takes it gently, crooning and getting a meow in return.

 _“Hello_ Chairman,” Magnus says, voice soft and fond.

_What._

“Chairman?” Alec asks. He doesn’t think he keeps his voice as even as he meant to, because Magnus looks defensive.

“Chairman Meow,” Magnus corrects, lips pursed. “I only had his meows to identify him by so it seemed appropriate.”

“I wasn’t judging,” Alec says, and he’s pretty sure it’s only a little bit of a lie. He watches Chairman bump his head against Magnus’s chin and watches Magnus melt in response. “It’s cute,” he decides.

Alec feels Angel pressing against his knee between one moment and the next. Magnus is too wrapped up in Chairman to notice her presence.

“Magnus,” Alec says his name to grab his attention as he smooths his hand over Angel’s head.

Magnus looks up, takes in his soul sitting next to Alec’s leg, and _freezes._

His expression is a complicated mix of pained and _afraid._ Alec hates to see it. He reaches out a hand and puts in over Magnus’s, unable to stand it.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Magnus, it’s okay.”

Magnus opens his mouth then closes it again without saying anything.

“It’s okay,” Alec repeats. He digs his fingers into Angel’s fur. “Can you? Please?”

Magnus’s expression goes resigned, and he reaches out the hand that Alec doesn’t have hold of to brush his fingers over Angel’s muzzle.

Alec looks down and finds her looking back at him, panting happily.

Black fur, glowing red eyes. Her fur is white in a few places on her muzzle, evidence of all the times she returned things made of _adamas_ to him.

He goes down on one knee and wraps his arms around her, blinking tears out of his eyes. “Hey girl,” he says, voice hoarse.

Her tail thumps happily against the couch and the leg of the coffee table as she twists in his arms to lick his face. Alec gives a watery laugh.

Magnus makes a noise above him that draws his attention. When Alec looks up, Magnus is looking down at him with golden cat’s eyes and a hand over his mouth.

Alec can guess at why.

His soul is a _hellhound,_ after all.

“Before you give me shit for her name, I want to point out that I was a toddler when I named her,” Alec says. “Angel seemed appropriate at the time, and it’s not like I could change her name after she got used to it.”

“Angel,” Magnus repeats, incredulous, hand dropping away from his mouth to absently pet Chairman again. “You named her with _blasphemy_ and had the nerve to take issue with _my_ name idea?”

 _“Toddler,”_ Alec reminds him. “I have an excuse.”

“I’ll have you know Chairman Meow is an _outstanding_ name for a cat and that I _also_ had a good reason,” Magnus sniffs, mockingly haughty.

“Oh?” Alec asks, fingers still buried in Angel’s fur as he maneuvers to sit on the rug so she can crawl into his lap. He sighs in relief. He’d _missed_ her.

“His meows were the only thing I knew him by,” Magnus says. “It stood to reason that I would name him after the one defining feature I had for him.”

“Sure,” Alec agrees, amused. He gets the impression that there’s more to it than that, but doesn’t push. It isn’t important right now.

He reaches up a hand to tug Magnus down to join him, curling into Magnus’s shoulder as soon as Magnus is settled next to him.

He’s exhausted, and the reappearance of Angel has made his body remind him of the fact that he hasn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in days. There was only so much runes could do to outrun his body’s need for rest.

His head drops onto Magnus’s shoulder, the sound of Chairman’s purring vibrating through his cheek. Angel has her chin resting on Magnus’s knee. She beats her tail against his leg when Alec lets his hand rest on head.

“Sorry,” Alec mumbles, half asleep already between the combination, “‘M tired.”

“Rest, darling,” Magnus says, leaning his cheek on the top of Alec’s head. Alec makes a pleased noise, wiggling to get more comfortable.

“Stay,” Alec asks, already drifting off.

“Always,” Magnus agrees softly.

Alec falls asleep with a smile on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Shadowhunter Bingo discord server, [The Hunter's Moon](https://discord.gg/RhZPtsd), is a great place to talk about shadowhunter stuff if you're interested :)


End file.
